on my bed but he keeps hissing as if on the brink
of attacking his best friend, which I pretend is me,
but I’m nobody’s best friend and never will be again.
The black cat will soon morph into another venomous rat,
secreting an evil fetus that is born to die. I won’t name him."
A small part of a long poem by Juliet Cook, "The Age of Vicissitude", which is newly appearing today in Horror Sleaze Trash!
Read more HERE - https://horrorsleazetrash.com/2025/03/02/juliet-cook/
(This poem is longer than my usual and will also be appearing in my chapbook "Blue Stingers Instead of Wings", forthcoming this Spring from Pure Sleeze Press.)
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